The Arizona sentinel., 1887-08-20

you?"
 "How much does a model get for sit ting?" asked Hughie, as he found him. self comfortable seat on divan.
 "A shilling an hour"
 "And how much do you get for your picture, Alan?"
 70, for this get thousand. "
 "Pounds?"
 "Guineas. Painters, poets and physicians always get guineas.
 Well, I think the model should have percentage, said Hughie, laughing; ''they work quite as hard as you do."
 Nonsense, nonsense! Why, look at the trouble of laying on the paint alone, and standing all day long at one's easel! It's all very we'll, Hughie, for you to talk, but I assure you that there are moments when art ap- breaches the dignity of manual labor. But you mustn't chatter; I'm very busy. Smoke cigarette, and keep quiet"
 After some time the servant came in. and told Trevor that the frame maker wanted to speak to him.
 "Don' run away, Hughie, " he said, as he went out. '.I will be back in moment"
 The old beggar man took advantage of Trevor's absence to rest for moment on a wooden bench that was behind him. He looked so forlOrn and wretched that Hughie could not help pitying him, and he felt in his pockets to see what money he had. All he could find was a sovereign and some coppers. Poor old fellow, he thought to himself, ''he wants it more than do, but it means no han sons for fortnight" and he walked across the studio and slipped the sovereign into the beggar's hand.
 The old man started, and faint smile fitted across his withered lips. Thank you, sir" he said in foreign accent.
 Then Trevor arrived, and Hughie took his leave, blushing a little at what he had done. He spent the day with Laura, got charming scolding for his extravaganza, and had to walk home.
 That night he strolled into the Palette Club about eleven o'clock, and found Trevor sitting by himself in the smok- ing-room drinking hook and seltzer.
 "Well, Alan, did you get the picture finished all rightP" he said, as he lit his cigar cite.
 "Finished and framed, my boyp' answered Trevor; ''and, by and by, you have made a conquest. That old model you saw is quite devoted to you. I had to tell him all about you-who you are. where you live. what your in- come is, what prospects you have"
 My dear Alan," cried Hughie, 'I shall probably find him waiting for me when go home. But of course you are only joking. Poor old beggar! I wish I could do something for him. l think it is dreadful that any one should be so miserable. I have got heaps of old clothes at home-do you think he would care for any of themP Why, his rags were falling to bits"
 ''But he looks splendid in them," said Trevor. q wouldn't paint him in frock coat for anything. What you call rags call romance. What seems poverty to you is picturesque ness to me. However, I'll tell him of your offer"
 "Alan," said Hughie. seriously, ''you painters are heartless lot"
 ''An artists heart is his head" re- piled Trevor; land besides, our busi- ness is to realize the world as we see it, not to reform it as we know it. 4 chGcun son nletier. And now tell me how Laura is. The old model was quite interested in her."
 You don't mean to say you talked to him about her?" said Hughie.
 Certainly I did. He knows all about the relentless colonel, the lovely damsel, and the f10,0 ,000."
 Ou lOlu lndI Olu Sdl dll ny private affairs?" cried Hughie, look ing very red and angry.
 My dear boy," said Trevor, smil- ing. "that old beggar, as you call him, is one of the richest men in Europe. He could buy all London tomorrow without overdrawing his account He has house in every capital, dimes off gold plates, and can prevent Russia going to war when he chooses"
 "What on earth do you mean?" ex- claimed Hughie.
 "What I say" said Trevor. 1.-The old man you saw to-day was Baron Hausberg. He is great friend of mine, buys all my pictures and that sort of thing, and gave me commis- sion month ago to paint him as a beggar. Que UoWIez0ouS? La fa'1taiSie q atg nltlLionndire! And I must say he made a magnificent figure in his rags, or perhaps I should say in my rags; they are an old suit got in Spain."
 Baron Hausbergr cried Hughie. Good heavens! gave him sover- eignr' and he sank into an armchair the picture of dismay.
 'Gave him a sovereignr' shouted Trevor. and he burst into a roar of laughter. My dear boy, you'll never see it again. Son Gfaire c'est rargent deS dutres."
 T think you might have told me,